


Of the Essence

by Laura_Mayfair



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Shameless Smut, Spooning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-25 16:59:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2629376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laura_Mayfair/pseuds/Laura_Mayfair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quickie turns into something neither of them quite expected. Mostly PWP. All mistakes are mine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of the Essence

“It's the middle of the afternoon, Tom,” said Laura. "We have meetings." The breathlessness in her voice undermined the cool authority she wanted to project but the Vice President did have her pinned against the wall of his small room. One hand stroked her wrist while the other made its way under her suit jacket to begin untucking her blouse.

He nuzzled her neck. “Gods, I missed you,” He took her earlobe between his lips and gave it a playful nip.

“You see me every day.” The words came out staggered and shallow as she attempted to catch her breath.

He kissed her hard, padding her cheek with his thumb. “Seeing you in a quorum meeting isn’t the same as having a few moments alone with you and you know it," he murmured against her mouth, still mid-kiss.

I missed you, too,” she said with some surprise, both at the astonishing clarity of the sentiment and at the fact she’d just blurted it out so freely. She kissed him, half to further arouse and half to deflect the admission.

“How long do we have?” asked Laura when they came up for air.

“Twenty six minutes.” He peeled off her suit jacket.

“Don’t just throw it,” warned Laura tersely. Tom never had any regard for her clothes when he was getting her out of them. “And really -- we have less than that. We have to save enough time to make ourselves look presentable after.”

He placed her jacket neatly over the chair with a pointed flourish and a wide grin. The hungry look he gave her as he took his time running his eyes over her body nearly made her knees turn to jelly. “Take it all off, Laura.” He paused a moment, hazel eyes glinting with familiar mischief. “Well, I suppose you can leave on the shoes.”

“We don’t have time -- “

“Madame President,” said Tom, “we can’t have you going back in there all wrinkled. See what a model of discretion I can be when you play nicely?”

“You’re so full of it.”

His smile was broad. “You’re going to be full of it in another minute.”

“A minute, Tom? How disappointing.” She slipped out of her blouse and began shimmying out of her skirt. Tom was throwing his own clothes every which way with complete disregard for where they landed.

“Saucy wench,” he said affectionately as he pulled her close and buried his face in between her breasts.

“Do you want these gone, too, Mr. Vice President?” Laura asked coyly, sliding a hand to the waistband of her underwear.

“I want to do that,” he growled, pushing the offending hand away. He proceeded to kiss a lazy path down to her stomach, pausing between kisses to caress with his hands the same leisurely route his mouth had taken.

Laura fidgeted. “We don’t have time for that.” She could tell exactly where this was going.

“Nonsense. There’s always time for eating pussy."

Tom eased her down onto the cot and planted a sloppy kiss against the top of her foot before yanking her underwear down. He had to disentangle them from the shoe she was still wearing, which added even more time to the whole procedure. With a dismissive gesture, he tossed the silky garment behind his head and pushed her knees apart. Like a man dehydrated, he dove in between her legs and dragged an eager tongue across her folds. The complaint she had been forming about her thrown undergarments died before she could even sputter it out. The rush of words dissolved into a deep moan instead. He lapped at her until her thighs were shaking, until she’d buried her hands in his hair and her nails were digging into his scalp. He only slowed down a fraction when she came, drawing an orgasm out of her that had her seeing stars.

He stroked her thighs as she came down from it. He kissed her knees, the tips of her fingers, her mouth. She gave a shaky laugh for no reason at all, other than the fact that her body was humming. She ran a hand across his chest and allowed herself to simply enjoy the feel and warmth of him. She wished they had more time.

“You still have your pants on,” Laura observed. She planted a teasing little kiss against his collarbone and moved her hand down, cupping him. “Completely unacceptable. Off. Now.”

“The lady knows what she wants. I do love that about you.”

Laura unbuckled his belt and pulled down his zipper. She giggled as she watched him wriggle out of his pants and underwear like an anguished fish caught in a fisherman’s net, his hard-on flopping in the breeze.

“You are not a nice woman,” he told her raggedly as he leaned over her body, his cock pressed against her thigh. Laura slipped her fingers around his length, circling her thumb over his tip, enjoying the changing expressions that flitted across his features as she took her time stroking him. She spread the drop of pre-cum that leaked onto her fingertip over the head and licked her lips.

Tom groaned and caught her wrist. “Frak, I can’t take much more of that.” There was no bravado in his tone, only a raw sincerity she wasn’t used to.

Laura shifted her body, moving instinctively into a position that was customary for them, turning her head back to toss him a smile. She expected him to grab her waist, enter her from behind. He didn’t.

“Tom?”

“I wanna see you. I mean -- if you’d prefer to be on top, that’s fine, but I just wanna face you. “

Laura turned over and laid down with her back against the mattress of the cot. “Come here,” she said softly.

He moved his body in between her legs, teasing another throaty gasp from her when he rubbed the flushed head of his cock against her slick heat.

She cupped his cheek and kissed him when he entered her. A first. And when he began to thrust, she wrapped her arms around his neck, meeting each measured stroke with her own counterpoint movement.

“Gods, Tom,” she breathed, tipping her head back. It was as if she’d called him to it with the utterance of his name. The tension in his body uncoiled, his thrusts grew more erratic, and he came inside her.

“Sorry,” he said softly once he'd caught his breath. He wrapped an arm around her waist. The time on the clock by his bedside table caught her eye. They still had five minutes.

“What for?” asked Laura sleepily. She pushed a few strands of shaggy hair away from his forehead.

“I wanted you to come again.”

“I’m not keeping a counter, Tom.”

He leaned over her and glanced at the clock. He grinned. “We have a few minutes,” he said, moving one hand down the length of her thigh. She rolled onto her side and took the wandering hand in hers, moving it back to join the other one that rested at her waist. She leaned back against his chest.

“We do,” she agreed. “And this is nice.”

“It is, isn’t it?” he said, tightening his arms around her. Holding her. Tom did catch on quickly. She appreciated that about him.

She allowed her eyes to close. “Very.”


End file.
